


Allegro: Voice of My Heart

by funnyfruites



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnyfruites/pseuds/funnyfruites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunggyu imagines a life without INFINITE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allegro: Voice of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first time posting fic online (and without a beta at that), so please leave a lot of comments and concrit; I will be immensely grateful ^^

At the end of long days, after he has taken a leisurely hot shower and pulled on freshly-laundered pyjamas, Sunggyu likes to lie on his back with his hands crossed under his head, warm and snug under his blanket, and stare at the ceiling reflecting about his day.  
(He is so thankful that they no longer share one shower among seven members. He doesn’t miss the days of having Sungjong wait for his turn outside the toilet, tapping his toes and staring imperiously at his leader for taking a minute too long in the shower.)  
  
He sometimes spends the short lulls between schedules doing the same but the constant rushing that comes with idol life means that he can be pulled out of his reveries at the drop of a hat. Here, in the comfort and privacy of his room after all their schedules are over and before another hectic day starts anew, before he has to go back to being Sung Kyu: lead vocalist, leader and hyung to six lovable idiots, he likes to lay down his responsibilities and just think.  
  
What he thinks about changes from day to day. On most days his mind runs through the things that happened on that day and makes mental notes on possible improvements or possible plans of action: Sungjong’s voice had cracked during practice, Sung Kyu needs to remember to get him a packet of lozenges from the pharmacy; Myungsoo had been a beat too slow in a performance, Sung Kyu should have an extra hour of practice tomorrow to run through their old choreography; Dongwoo had stopped to talk to fans for too long and nearly caused a stampede, Sung Kyu should keep an eye out for him the next time they are at an airport to make sure Dongwoo keeps up; Hoya had been looking exhausted from rushing between the movie set and the practice room, so Sung Kyu should try to give him an extra ten minutes to sleep in the morning.  
Sunggyu cannot help such thoughts, and they happen more often than he would prefer. He wishes his mind had an off-switch which he could push at the end of a long day, but he figures that it is an occupational hazard that comes with being the leader of a group with a name that means ‘immeasurably great’, ‘indefinitely great’, ‘boundless’. To live up to their name, they always have to improve on what they already have, always have to be better than yesterday, always have to be as perfect as they can manage and then go  _beyond_  that.  
[Sungyeol sometimes whines about Sung Kyu’s intolerance for anything less than flawlessness during practice, the perfectionism which keeps them in the practice room till their legs collapse of exhaustion and they drag their weary bodies back to the dorm, only to pull themselves out of bed a short (too short, much too short, always too short) while later to repeat the process again. Sunggyu knows that Sungyeol’s complaints are done only on principle though, and recognises that Sungyeol works as hard as any of them, maybe even harder, to make his noodle-like limbs look as clean and sharp as the rest of them in their choreographies, so Sung Kyu just gives him a Look and ignores the whines before pressing ‘Play’ on the music player again.]  
  
On some days though, Sunggyu’s thoughts wanders to what he would have done had he not met Nell’s manager at that café and become an Woollim trainee. He usually tries not to dwell on such thoughts because just thinking about not being a part of INFINITE starts a strange ache in his chest which could at times take days to soothe. On some days, though, such thoughts refuse to be banished from his mind and his imagination takes on a life of its own, wandering through the depths of his tired subconscious to the possible arrangements that the song of his life might have taken had he not become an idol.  
  
  
He wonders if he would have stopped pursuing music like his parents had wanted, gone home to Jeonju and started working in a large company, sitting at a desk all-day and leaving the office at five on the dot. (Sunggyu smiles at that: going home before the sun sets and having the whole evening to himself sounds as close to Paradise as he will ever get.) He would probably have risen to a high position because of his respect for authority and determination to always give his best, earning a pretty penny as a single note in the orchestra that was the large firm.  
  
He wonders if his mother would have introduced him to one of her friend’s daughters, one of those pretty, demure girls with long straight hair who laughed with her hand over her mouth, who wore pretty dresses and looked at people from beneath lowered lashes, one of those girls who men wanted to marry. He probably would have gone along with his mother’s suggestions to “get to know her better” even though he would have recognised it as a euphemism for “take her on a few dates and quickly get married, you’re already pushing thirty”. He would probably take her on several dates to fancy restaurants and let her order the most expensive thing on the menu, paying for the meal with his platinum credit card. He would likely kiss her on the fifth date and within seven months, Sunggyu would probably propose to her in an orthodox manner, hiding the ring in her champagne flute and getting down on one knee, promising to take care of her even in old age. They would probably be wed in a grand ceremony where his mother would invite the entire neighbourhood and his wife-to-be would invite even her distant cousins such that Sunggyu can barely recognise anybody sitting in the pews while waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. His father would surreptitiously wipe a stray tear away while his mother and sister would bawl their eyes out while the couple exchanges their vows, not realising when a lone figure slowly steps out of the church and walks briskly away with nary a glance behind, hands clenched into fists and jaw clenched to keep the tears from coming. Sunggyu would probably spend the entire reception continuously being approached by people whom he was meeting for the first time and receiving congratulations for the “beautiful couple”. The newlyweds would share a dance, Sunggyu’s right arm wound around her waist and his left hand clasping her right, and Sunggyu would look into the eyes of the woman whom he now called his wife and try desperately to feel something more than overwhelming affection and trying to tamp down on his rising panic.  
  
After the wedding, his wife would likely get pregnant very quickly, what with both their families waiting eagerly for the arrival of a child, and quit her job once the baby was born. Sunggyu expects that they would have a staid marriage with a steady 4/4 beat with no diminuendos, but with no crescendos either: she would prepare breakfast for him and see him off at the door with a peck on the cheek, and have dinner ready for him when he comes home after a long day at the office, too tired to ask his wife or his children (a daughter and a son) about their day before turning in for the night. The days would blur into each other, too caught up in living a lie and always yearning for  _more_  that he doesn’t notice time creeping up on him and death coming to end his unfinished piece abruptly.  
  
(Sunggyu shudders and shakes his head to clear it of such thoughts. He snuggles deeper into his blanket and quickly sings a few verses from ‘Back’ to ground himself in the present, thanking past-Sunggyu for not giving up even though it was hard trying to make ends meet during his early days in Seoul.)  
  
  
Sometimes, Sunggyu imagines a life where he continues to pursue music in the underground scene, continuing to scorn the K-pop industry and thus never hearing about a six-member rookie group called INFINITE who looked like their days were numbered. He would probably be the lead singer of a rock band with regular gigs at the clubs in Hongdae, spending his nights rocking out on stage before staggering off with a high that he could only get from performing, before getting higher on alcohol after that. He would probably stumble home to his tiny apartment just before the sun rises, blearily wondering in his drunken stupor if this fortissimo, the loudness of his life, would last. Most of his days would be spent in bed, sleeping off the aftereffects of the previous night, before untangling himself from the warm body in his bed to get ready for the night’s performance, pulling on a worn leather jacket and a pair of skinny jeans, and attempt to make his (small) eyes look sultry with some smoky eyeliner, puffing on a cigarette on the way to the club a few blocks away.  
  
His parents would probably never have forgiven him for choosing music, especially without the public scrutiny that comes with being parents of an idol. His father would have struck his name off the family register, while his sister would secretly meet up with him every time she happened to be in Seoul to catch up with him and give him some money – he was her one and only younger brother after all, and while she did not agree with his choices, it would not do to have him starving in the cold. His mother would call him once a month (she used to call every day, but figured that her son was more likely to actually listen to her instead of putting her on mute if she called less often), alternating between trying to tearfully guilt-trip him into giving up music and coming home, and yelling at him for being an ungrateful son.  
  
The Sunggyu who chose to live his life in double time, though, probably knew that he was disappointing his family in ways other than just pursuing music, and would probably just endure his mother’s tirades and her tears, politely saying goodbye and telling her that he loved her before hanging up. (And he did, he did love her even though she had never, and would never be able to love him, at least not fully, because of the way that she wanted to mould him into the son she wished that she could have had, a son who would have a stable job and gotten married and given her grandchildren.)  
  
  
“What are you doing?” Woohyun peeks his head into Sunggyu’s bedroom, stopping Sunggyu’s thoughts in their tracks.  
  
Sunggyu furtively wipes away the stray tears that had unknowingly escaped from the corners of his eyes with the back of his fingers before turning on his side, propping his head on his palm and looking at Woohyun. The dim light streaming into the room from the hall haloes Woohyun’s disembodied head, and for one delirious moment Sunggyu thinks that Woohyun looks like an angel who deserves to be serenaded.  
  
“Just thinking,” Sunggyu replies, taking in Woohyun’s appearance. His hair is still wet from the shower, adorably flopping into the eyes which are now free of eyeliner, making him look years younger. His head tilts to the side as he takes in Sunggyu’s answer.  
  
“You think too much,” comes Woohyun’s simple reply. “Can I come in?”  
  
The corners of Sunggyu’s lips turn up slightly, amused by Woohyun’s question. “When have I ever said no?”  
  
“I know, just checking.” Woohyun cracks the door open further and lets himself into Sunggyu’s room before letting it close with a soft click. He makes his way in the dark to Sunggyu’s bed and climbs in, sliding under the covers and snuggling up to Sunggyu who has his arms open in anticipation of his boyfriend. Sunggyu wraps his arms around Woohyun, pillowing the latter’s head on his bicep and pulling him in. Sunggyu rests his nose on Woohyun’s hair and deeply inhales the scent of his shampoo overlaid with Woohyun’s natural smell, the smell which Sunggyu now associates with home. Only now with Woohyun in his arms does Sunggyu feel the beat of his heart slowing, the knots which had lodged themselves into his shoulders and back slowly loosening, and the ache in his chest dissipating.  
  
“What were you thinking about?” Woohyun murmurs softly, snuggling further into Sunggyu’s chest, and trying not to disrupt the quiet of the night.  
  
Woohyun could be a greaseball with a silver tongue on camera, chatting up the MC and laughing loudly at unfunny jokes, but in these quiet moments where it’s just the two of them, Woohyun listens more than he speaks and takes his time to come up with thoughtful replies. This duality, the ability to compartmentalise parts of his personality used to grate on Sunggyu’s nerves, especially when they had first met as trainees. This trait had made Woohyun seem fake was another reason added on to the list of why he despised the other boy, along with his singing abilities which was definitely not better than Sunggyu’s no matter what he said, his ability to flirt his way into and out of things, and the threat that he posed to Sunggyu who just wanted to sing so, so badly and would not let anyone stand in his way. And so the two had fought, viciously and aggressively, trying to gain the upper hand in a game which neither of them fully understood.  
  
During one of his nightly musings, Sunggyu had realised that Woohyun’s ability to create a persona for himself was a defensive way to protect the special verses of himself from the masses, from the people who only wanted the good parts of him but rejected the parts that made him human; Woohyun had composed a different song to distract the public from the vulnerability within. That epiphany had prompted him to try and gain Woohyun’s trust, and before he could realise it the line between hate and love had blurred and the two eventually found themselves pulling the other in instead of pushing him away, and the rest is history. Now, Sunggyu only feels selfish gratitude for Woohyun’s façade for protecting the fragility within, the special verses which Woohyun only lets a select few hear. Sunggyu feels proud that he is one of those people. Sunggyu’s only regret is that he did not recognise it sooner.  
  
“Hyung?” Woohyun’s puzzled voice breaks through his reverie and he hides his smile by burying his face further into Woohyun’s hair.  
  
“Just stuff,” Sunggyu finally replies, tightening his hold around Woohyun.  
  
“Like?” Woohyun’s insistence makes Sunggyu’s grin widen; Woohyun is pushy regardless of whether he is on or off-camera.  
  
“About how life would be like without INFINITE.”  
  
Woohyun is silent for a beat too long and Sunggyu feels Woohyun’s body tensing and his defenses coming up. Sunggyu inwardly sighs: Woohyun can be an absolute idiot, reading too much into Sunggyu’s words and jumping to the wrong conclusions. Based on a wealth of past experience, Sunggyu knows that Woohyun would probably pull away from him and spend several days being passive-aggressive while trying to hide his tearful melody from everybody. That wouldn’t do. Not today.  
  
“I was thinking about how I wouldn’t trade anything for INFINITE,” Sunggyu continues, tangling their ankles together and pulling Woohyun in even further.  
  
“I was thinking about how glad I am that I met you, you insufferable idiot.” Sunggyu feels the tension seep out of Woohyun and the breath that he probably had not realised that he was holding being slowly released, feels the slow grin spreading across Woohyun’s face that’s pressed up to his chest.  
  
“Love you too, hyung.”  
  
Woohyun evidently hears the voice of Sunggyu's heart clearly.


End file.
